


Primroses

by SoulJelly



Series: Ulrich, Gardener [2]
Category: Code Lyoko
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:28:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24108988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoulJelly/pseuds/SoulJelly
Summary: He presses his cheek to the cool, damp earth. Breathes in sensation, life. Aelita's shadow falls over him and she's holding something gentle and butter-yellow in her hands. (In which Ulrich and Aelita share a quiet space. Companion piece to 'Succulents'.)
Relationships: Aelita Schaeffer & Ulrich Stern
Series: Ulrich, Gardener [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1739458
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	Primroses

The flat edge of Ulrich's spade sinks with a satisfying sound. He braces one foot against it, tilts his weight and heaves, swinging a mound of soil free from the earth. He casts it aside onto the growing pile before leaning back on the spade and wiping his brow.

"That's the last bit, I think." He speaks softly, only as loud as he needs to. Aelita turns from where saplings squat on the wall in terracotta pots. When she smiles, mud stretches in the creases of her mouth. She runs her sleeve absently over her chin.

"Thank you, it looks great. I'll be with you in a moment."

She turns from him, fussing with the pots.

Ulrich arches his back with a series of satisfying creaks and pops. The exertion feels good, a hard-earned warm ache in his muscles and mud beneath his fingernails. He admires the garden, the months of work it must have taken to reshape the Hermitage into this peaceful sanctuary - work began long before he had found Aelita here with trowels and gloves and well-thumbed volumes of gardening books.

She had looked guilty, almost dropping the hanging basket of petunias she'd been hoisting into place.

"Sorry I didn't tell anyone," she had said. "I just needed-- Well-- I wanted a quiet place."

He had smiled at her and held the ladder still while she finished hanging the basket. They started coming then, on Saturday afternoons when the weather afforded after classes, and the world sprung up lush and fragrant around them; yarrow and agastache, daylilies and hosta. The more pressure XANA piles on, the more fervently Aelita works, as though if she toils hard enough she can bring the Hermitage and its memories back to life.

Ulrich likes helping things to grow. XANA hasn't worked plants into its evil schemes yet so the garden exists in a bubble devoid of bad memories. Ulrich finds himself sketching ideas and passing them to Aelita in class; Odd notes he's been calmer lately. He even passes a Biology test on plant cell structure with a score that has Mrs Hertz raising her eyebrows. It's the quiet beginning of something that, he'll realise much later, is passion.

Ulrich sits, then leans back, allowing his body to fall with the weight of pleasant exhaustion. He presses his cheek to the cool, damp earth. Breathes in sensation, life. Aelita's shadow falls over him and she's holding something gentle and butter-yellow in her hands.

"We can plant these, now," she said. "This is the perfect place to put them."

She leans beside him easily and Ulrich shifts weight onto his elbows to a run a finger across pale fluted edges. The primroses bob in a sudden breeze, craning their heads out from Aelita's hands.

"Be careful with them," she says, passing Ulrich a bunch of primroses set in a clod of earth. "No, no - don't disturb with the roots. Just press them into the ground and pack the soil around them, like this." She demonstrates with a calm authority, so at home in the natural world that Ulrich can't believe they ever thought she was a machine.

Ulrich bends his head close to the flowerbed and presses down the flowers with his fingertips. They work quietly, occasionally making a comment or a joke or a cup of tea. There's ritual in this last thing; the reverent pouring from the thermos and the conspiratorial smiles as they clink their chipped mugs together. There's no pressure to talk.

Following an afternoon's work, the bed of primroses is finished. Aelita steps back, rising with a grunt and scraping dirt from her knees. When she looks at Ulrich, filthy and dishevelled and flushed pink, her smile is pure sunlight.

Ulrich looks down at himself, where the mud and grass stains make it hard to see where he ends and the earth begins. He breathes out, long and slow and satisfied.


End file.
